


The Little Match Dinosaur

by Readerofmuch



Category: The Thrilling Adventure Hour
Genre: Christmas, Christmas tropes crossover, F/M, Feels, Gift Fic, Like an angry kitten honestly, The Little Match Girl - Freeform, angsty fluff, sadder than I meant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-04
Updated: 2015-12-04
Packaged: 2018-05-04 21:19:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5348885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Readerofmuch/pseuds/Readerofmuch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank Doyle was never born and here's what happens to everyone else. Kind of. This story isn't really about Frank though. This is a story about everyone's favorite PI and ghostly dinosaur. What happens to them during this major spiritual crisis?</p><p>Gift fic for theshehulkproject</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Little Match Dinosaur

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas, have some slight angst! I hope you enjoy this. Warnings at the bottom.

The tale always begins high above Park Avenue, above the dirt and grime of everyday life. Life is nothing but warm laughter and cool drinks for the privileged elite. But that’s not where the story starts today, no sir. Today starts with a much humbler hero.  
Pterodactyl Jones and his ghostly Pterodactyl Harvey were left in the streets after last call. Immune to the cold, the ghostly dinosaur could do nothing but watch helplessly as his friend tried to stay upright. 

“Gee, Harv it sure is getting c-c-cold out here. M-m-maybe we should think about f-finding a place to- a place to-“

Jones stopped. It was colder than Hell after the Parker daughters married and he couldn’t feel his feet beneath him. He stumbled forward into the pool of yellow light under a street light as cracked as an elf dentistry dream and collapsed like a rag doll, dropped for bigger and better toys. Harvey screeched. 

“Don’t worry about me, Harv. I think I found a safe place. It’s so,” Jones paused for a yawn bigger than Santa’s sack, “warm here.  
I’m just gonna take a quick nap…”

Harvey screeched loudly, but out there on the cold, heartless streets of the Big Apple no one had time for one more tramp. He curled up next to the prone body of his fallen friend as his breathing slowed. As it finally stopped, the fat, white clouds that had been sitting low over the city broke open. Snow blanketed the street, finally covering up the two entirely. 

When he woke up he was sitting in an overstuffed armchair, surrounded by warm, flickering firelight. Harvey was curled in an oversize dog bed on the floor, completely solid. As his vision cleared, he saw a solid looking brick fireplace in front of him painting the walls in flickering shadows. Two stockings hung from the mantelpiece. Each had a letter on it (M and G respectively) and in the chair beside him an older woman sat embroidering another. She was short and sturdy, with flyaway gray hair and a sparkle in her eyes that betrayed her no nonsense face. 

“Oh good, you’re up! Have some cocoa,” she said in a warm voice with a strong British accent. She gestured at the tray sitting on the table on his other side. It had two Christmas mugs with candy canes sticking out and a plate of sugar cookies, as well as a few of the minty, mobility aid shaped treats sprinkled over it. Jones tossed Harvey the candy cane from his hot chocolate and cautiously took a sip.

“Just between you and me, there’s a little something extra in there.”

He nodded.

“I noticed.”

They sat in companionable silence aside from the occasional squawk coming from Harvey’s basket as he finished off a cookie. Finally, PJ broke the silence. 

“Where is this place?”

“Here? This is a sort of Christmas purgatory, though much more pleasant. You’re dead, Mr. Jones.”  
He nodded.

“I’d gathered as much by old Harvey here. This ain’t the strangest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

They lapsed back into a comfortable silence. Harvey finished his treat and rolled onto his back, begging for another. When none were forthcoming he dozed off. 

“So do we just sit here or what?”

The old woman shook her head.

“I’m the one who just sits here. My granddaughter will be here for New Year’s but you’ll be long gone by then.”

PJ shrugged at her.

“Lady, you’re as clear as the mud on the bottom of a gumshoe.”

“Your friend, that Frank fellow. He’s off seeing what life would be like without him as a Christmas miracle.”

“I don’t even know the guy and that sounds like something he’d do. So, what, I’m the tragic friend who freezes to death because I didn’t have him around to do whatever he did?”

“Now you’ve got into the spirit of things!” 

She paused for a moment to laugh at her own joke. PJ waited impatiently. 

“So what did he do for me?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know. You could watch what’s happening, if you want.”

Jones nodded and she stood, abandoning her needlework.

“Now let’s see, I know she left a few around here somewhere.”

She stood, moving out of sight. PJ sat. His mug had filled itself up again and he drank deeply, as much for the warmth as for the alcohol. Finally, the old woman returned with a handful of long stemmed wooden matches.

“They’re my granddaughter’s. They’ll show you what you need to see.”

She handed him the matches and the rest of the room seemed to fade away. He and Harvey sat in front of a blank wall, completely alone. Harvey screeched.

“Sheesh, I’m lighting it already.”

The first strike yielded only a few sparks, but the second lit the match with a bright orange flame. He held it close to the brick and watched as it became transparent. He could see the ghost of a mustachioed man in a bar, seated on the stool beside his ghostly train conductor guide. He could hear the conductor’s voice as he spoke to this Frank guy.

“Howie couldn’t stand the stress you know. After you died instead of Peter, they drifted apart. Eventually that old Jalopy he drove gave out on him and he never made it home. Peter’s the only one left and he’d do anything to change that.”

In the booth in front of them sat a nondescript man, sipping his Workjuice Coffee™ nervously. Across from him sat a very obvious, very terrifying evil clown. He smiled, revealing an abundance of very sharp teeth.

“Do we have a deal?”

The man nodded nervously and the unnatural smile grew even wider.

Suddenly, there was a sharp pain in PJ’s fingers and he dropped the match. The scene vanished and he was left staring at the blank brick wall. He turned to Harvey. 

“Well that was odder than the last sock on laundry day. Up for another one?’

Harvey screeched and he lit the next match. The brick wall in front of him vanished again and he watched the curious scene in front of him.

PJ saw his body, lying in the pool of yellow light beneath a street lam and half covered with snow. If it hadn’t been him lying there, it would have seemed like over-kill. Somehow though, his own corpse did not leave him with much interest in dark humour. Frank and his ghostly guide stood beside his body

“So that’s what happened to PJ?”

Frank’s voice was quiet and disbelieving. 

“He never met you Frank and without you he never got out of that life. He was good enough at faking but never talented enough to get any further than right here. Frozen to death after last call.”

They stood in silence, staring at PJ’s limp form. From around the corner they could hear a pair of quarreling voices approaching.

“We must go west, back towards my hobo princess!”

“But it’s a hobo tradition!”

Two hobos approached, seemingly not noticing his corpse. The younger one was the first to notice. 

“Oh.” 

“Oh? What’s all that ohing about? “ 

He gestured at the body and the crusty old hobo sighed.

“It’s this time of year that’s always the hardest for our sort of folk.”

“So what can we do for this poor soul Gummy?”

He shook his head.

“There ain’t nothin’ we can do but try not to be next.”

The two hobos stood in silence until the match fizzled out and PJ was left staring at nothing. 

He looked down to find Harvey cuddled up against his left. It was the first time they’d ever been able to tough and he relished the contact. Who said that dinosaurs were cold? He scratched Harvey absently behind the ear with one hand, the handful of matches clutched in his other. This was turning out to be stranger than a singing snowman, but he knew he had to see it through to the end. Frank was his friend, even if PJ couldn’t exactly remember why.  
He lit a single match and found himself in front of a vision of loveliness. She was a long, tall drink of water and he found himself parched. She wore a midnight blue evening gown with a slit up the side and a plunge in the middle. Her dark hair was twisted up, pulling her perfectly sculpted eyebrows into a look of surprised amusement her dark red smirk only supported. 

“That’s…” PJ trailed off, leaving Frank to finish his sentence.

“Sadie?”

Harvey nestled against him and squawked curiously. 

“That’s Sadie Parker, heir to the Parker fortune and the bane of her mother’s existence.”

The woman was surrounded by admirers of all genders, all vying for her attention. Frank watched and clenched his fists as the guide began to explain.

“Sadie’s still trapped in this life, Frank. Donna left her but you never came after. She’s alone, Frank and she’ll always be alone.”

The match began to flicker in Jones’s hand and he panicked, lighting the whole handful of matches at once. The scene lit up again even brighter than before and every detail was painfully clear.

He saw Sadie, downing her drink without even looking at it. Her eyes were dull and empty, even as she laughed and pushed away admirers. Frank stood beside her, hand out to take hers. She turned away without seeing him and PJ watched helplessly as Frank tried not to cry. He had no witty response, no reaction other than complete devastation over these two people he’d never met. The matches went out with a whoosh, leaving him in darkness. 

Back in his chair in front of the fire, Harvey curled up on his lap.

“Well, how was it? Did you see what you needed to see?”

The old woman sat in her chair completely undisturbed.

“What was that?”

She shrugged.

“More interesting than sitting here, I hope. You’ll be back to life before you know it. With luck, you won’t remember this at all.”

He opened his mouth to ask another question, but she was already gone. 

“Jones? Um, Pterodactyl Jones?”

He startled awake, almost knocking off his fedora. 

“You’ve got a visitor.”

He sat up. The cramped office around him became much clearer with the fedora off his face and he looked around. It was normal. He was in his desk with his chair in the hotel where he worked. So why did everything feel so unfamiliar? He shook it off and turned towards the shadowy figure still standing in the corner.

“What can I do for ya?”

The figure stepped into the light.

“Frank!”

“Jonesy!”

Behind him, Sadie would not be ignored.

“Sadie!”

They laughed.

“Oh, you got Harvey back!”

He beamed at Sadie.

“I did. It turns out Wisconsin IS the land of the twice dead.”

Frank clapped him on the shoulder.

“Now Jonesy old chap, how have you been?”

He shrugged.

“As well as a detective can ever be.”

Suddenly, he noticed something. He blinked.

“Do my eyes deceive me? Frank, where’s your drink?”

Frank seemed as shocked as he was. 

“I-I’m not sure.”

Sadie was unconcerned.

“Frank, did you finish it already? I’ll pour you a refill darling”

He shook his head.

“I appear not to have one. I came over here so quickly- I must have forgotten.”

Sadie took his arm.

“Shall we go retrieve one?”

“Well, PJ what do you say old pal?”

He nodded, still stunned. He reached into his pocket for a Patriot Brand Cigarette™ and felt a lump of fabric. He pulled out a small, green Christmas stocking with PJ embroidered on the front. Looking at it, he remembered. 

“Frank?”

“Yes?”

“You made the right choice.”

They were almost to the curb before Frank had an answer.

“How did you know?”

Harvey screeched and Jones shrugged. 

“I’ll tell you later, when you’re less…” he paused, “Sober.”

They boarded the taxi and in the background, music began to play.

And so, Frank Doyle learned the true meaning of Christmas… Join us-

“Hey! Where were you in the beginning of this thing?”

I had some Christmas shopping to do! It’s hard having a big family. ANYWAYS, join us next week when the Doyle’s once again go beyond belief in a terrifying tale titled “Ho-ho-haunted!”

**Author's Note:**

> CW for major character death, homelessness, food mentions


End file.
